


Magic Hands

by adams_song



Category: Girls (TV)
Genre: Adam is single, Back Pain, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Horniness, Massage, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strangers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, massage therapist au, sackler is an illegal massage therapist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adams_song/pseuds/adams_song
Summary: After a freak accident, you need some lovin' on your injured back // Adam Sackler is an illegal door-to-door massage therapistAKA, you're horny, naked and confused.
Relationships: Adam Sackler & Reader, Adam Sackler & You, Adam Sackler/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Magic Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nocturnalchild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnalchild/gifts).



> Welcome to yet another self indulgent fic heavily based on... me! I fucked my back a few months ago and i'm still dealing with the consequences... So this has been a recurring fantasy hahah 
> 
> P.S. Happiest Birthday to my lovely ♥︎ Nocturnalchild ♥︎
> 
> Without further ado:

“Name’s Adam.” He’d just said, moving around you like a jellyfish, shaking your hand awkwardly.

Your nosy coworker Marnie gave you his number; her best friend Hannah’s ex, a dick, apparently. A dick with magic hands. He once cracked and fixed Marnie’s back at a party, and she wouldn’t shut up about it, she swore by his skills. ‘He’s amazing, and I heard he does this for a living now! You should totally call him!’

Call him, call him, call him.

And now you’re half naked in your living room with this total stranger.

“So your back hurts.”

“Uhhuh…”

Adam cracks his knuckles, his neck. One side then the other. Stretches the front of his chest before stepping closer. An awkward giant in grey sweatpants and a worn out t-shirt, with holes in it, that you notice from your place on the fold-out massage table he brought with him. Looking nothing like a massage therapist. Not a legit one, anyway, but you knew that. He’s supposed to be a natural, getting around by word of mouth, going to people’s houses and “fixing them” for a fair price. So you’re willing to give this a shot.

“Down there.” You point out, gesturing around the sore area right in the middle of your lower back.

“Alright—” Without a second though, he digs in, and you scream. 

“Woah!!!” He throws his hands up, looking… scared, like a little boy who just dropped grandma’s vase. 

“What is it?” He asks bluntly.

You turn your head to him and give him an aggravated stare. 

“…?”

“Your injury, what is it? That ain’t just backhurt.”

“BACKHURT??? Seriously dude?! I thought you knew what you were doing, what the fuck…?!”

You prop up on one elbow so you can yell at him properly, the other hand pulling at the towel underneath you to cover your very naked breasts… His eyes lower imperceptibly before returning to your death glare.

“WoaaaAaahhh… Relax, kid!” The way he keeps flailing his hands in the air, it is almost endearing. “Just wanna know if you’ve been to a doctor about it, so I know what I’m dealing with here?”

“Well, I don’t know! The doctor just shrugged and threw pills at me! It’s been a month and it honestly didn’t help, doctors don’t help for shit. That’s why I called you.”

“Oh kay…” He crouches to get eye level with you, staring at you with an intensity that seems unusual, like everything else you’ve seen of him so far. “Do you trust me?”

You’re not sure why you say yes.

***

“I’ll go easy now, just feel around, try to figure it out. If anything hurts just let me know, yeah? But use your words this tiiiiime…” 

His naturally deep voice morphs into this childish singsong so easily and your heart softens a little, but you won’t let it show.

“Ha ha.”

Adam’s hands make contact with you much more gently this time. His fingertips flutter over your skin before his palms start smoothing lightly up and down your entire back, pressing just enough to warm you up. His hands feel big, covering the expanse of your back with ease. Soft too, incredibly soft against your skin.

“Okay” You hear him say breathily. One of his hands leaves you all of a sudden, while the other stays glued to your spine, keeping it warm and protected. It feels… really fucking nice. He’s pulled another towel from god knows where, and proceeds to cover the top of your back with it. 

“Don’t want ya gettin’ all cold…”

He lays the towel a bit below your shoulder blades and tucks the other end carefully around your neck, grazing the thin hairs there as he does. That simple touch is enough to raise goosebumps on your skin and make a shudder run down your spine, causing a new and inevitable stab of pain as your muscles clench.

“Sorry kid, tickles?” 

You grumble miserably. You could be getting a massage, an actual nice, enjoyable massage, but your fucked up back isn’t cooperating.

You hear him chuckle to himself as he quickly resumes the rubbing of your lumbar area, helping your muscles relax and soothing the sting. And just like that, all the tension you had accumulated starts to fade away. The guy’s hands really do work wonders… 

“Oil.”

“Uhm, whaa…?“

“Oil ya up. Massage oil, that ok?”

Pretty normal practice, you reckon. Why the heck does it sound to you like he’s asking for something filthy? How come your is mind already wandering, kinda fantasizing about it? Right, you’re a horny mess and no amount of physical pain will ever change that. Also you’re totally zoning out.

“KID!”

Adam’s already standing there, bottle in hand.

“Uhhhh, sure, y-yeah, ok.”

With a ‘cute but psycho’ smirk on his face, he squirts a generous amount of oil onto his palm, tosses the bottle roughly in the direction of his ridiculously boy scouty red backpack and starts vigorously rubbing his hands. 

When he touches you again, it’s like liquid fire. His hands glide easily on your flesh, fingers lightly pressing in between your muscles, massaging all the right spots, tracing your ribs and the bones on your spine. And fuck, if it isn’t orgasmic. The warmth he’s spreading feels like pure medicine on your aching back, each pass of his hands more delicious than the last. 

As he works, the scent of the oil starts to fill the air, delicate and floral, with a distinct sweetness that you’re sure you’ve smelled before… You’re not sure where. And you don’t care, as you close your eyes and allow yourself to just flow with the sensations and pleasure he’s giving you. You lose track of time and space and don’t even realize the way you’re quietly squirming under him, until you catch an embarrassingly explicit moan leaving your throat.

“Doing ok?”

You nod, grateful that he decides not to make any further comment. He’s capable of acting professional after all, and that makes you feel more comfortable and relaxed around him. Maybe you’ll let him hear you moan some more.

“Show me again where it hurts… Is it here?”

“Bit lower… Yeah. There. Ow. Ow… OW.”

Adam feels around very carefully, mindful of every one of your reactions. He’s not really hurting you but the spot is really tender and hypersensitive, so your body reacts once more by stiffening.

“Ok. Ok, Breathe…” 

He presses his big warm paw on your spine again and gives you some space.

“That’s it. Long breaths.” He’s whispering now, why is he whispering now? It feels so intimate and warmth floods you from the inside now and fuck, does his voice have to drop like that? He’s breathing deeply too, you can hear him, and you intuitively follow his lead until your breaths fall in sync.

And you’re fucking melting.

“No more of that.” Still whispering, he moves his hand in gentle circles that melt you even faster; you’re just like butter and he’s a hot, sexy knife….

Keeping his hand on you, he bends over the side of the table and he’s suddenly in your face.

“One more thing and we’re done, kid. If it hurts you can kick my balls, as hard as you can - but it won’t.”

“HHAHAAHAhOHW, shit! Don’t make me laugh in this position, please, fuck—hahah—fuuuuck…”

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” He shushes, soothing you with his large palm as it trails down, dipping lower than it had before. When it meets the waistband of your pants, he uses his other hand to pull it down a bit, and pauses for a moment.

“This’ll feel good, I promise. Just let go.”

Your overheated mind is going places again, but you aren’t nearly as scandalized as you probably should be. Maybe he is a bit of a pervert, so what? He’s funny, and sweet, and he’s making you feel so good. You… trust him. 

Before your mind can go on debating, he rests the heel of his hand right on your tailbone and his other hand right on top.

“Let. Go.” 

It’s low and commanding and so provocative, you’d let him do anything to you at this point. 

Eager to get on with whatever he’s planning, you take a deep breath, in and out. He understands physical language better than anything, and with his hands on you he can read you like a book, know if you’re still holding on. Just as you finish exhaling, when he feels you’re fully relaxed, he does it. He pushes down on you, a short and powerful motion that makes something inside you pop. And release. Relief floods your whole body and for the first time since the accident, you feel normal again. You move your legs and it doesn’t hurt. You wiggle your ass and it doesn’t hurt. It feels so fucking amazing you want to kiss him and hug him and fuck him.

“Wow!!! What did you… did you just fix me?”

He offers his hand to help you up, and as you do, you sourly realize that even though you feel infinitely better, you’re far from healed. He senses your discomfort and hums sympathetically.

“That just feels awesome for everybody, it’s a tricky joint to pop. But it’s your bone that’s all fucked up kid, you really need to see that doctor again. And he better be ordering a fucking x-ray this time or I’ll have to bash his fucking head in…” He looks thoughtful for a sec, like he’s really considering it. He’s still holding your hand when he looks down at you, straight into your eyes, and continues casually:

“Heating pads.” 

He turns around in a sudden motion, as if he just got electrocuted, going for his backpack until he sees the oil bottle on the floor and grabs it.

“Heat is good… And take it easy.”

“What kind of oil is that by the way? It smells so good.”

“Like it? It’s my special recipe.” He says with a mischievous smirk.

He takes some more oil and smears it on your lower back as you sit on the massage table, feet dangling in the air and arms hugging the fluffy towel to your chest. He takes his sweet time, and you revel in the sudden closeness, very different now from how it was just minutes ago. In this position you can really take him all in; his presence, his unique scent, the way his rebellious hair falls in inky tendrils over his face… He’s fucking handsome, no, painfully beautiful. His smooth skin is kissed with freckles, and his body is to die for. Naturally thick and toned, wide chest and shoulders, big strong arms and bulgy pecs that his shirt does absolutely nothing to hide. Physically, he is all of your turn-ons in one, a big ol’ tree you wish you could climb. 

You’re both really quiet, with just your ragged breaths and an energy clearly buzzing in the air between you. You make brief eye contact and he knows, knows that if he drags this any longer it’s gonna start to feel inappropriate. So he delivers some last strokes with extra friction for good measure, coming up with a ludicrous excuse.

“Wanna send you home nice and warm.”

“I am home, Sackler…”

His smoldering eyes soften and his tender lips do a little pout as he slowly steps back.

Adam shakes his head out and you can relate, you’re feeling kinda dizzy too.

***

“Can we do this again?” He straight out asks.

“I— I was about to ask the same thing. I feel so much better already, I mean— I think you really can help me so yeah, definitely, yes.” You’re already stuttering and getting awkward at having to say goodbye. You wish he would just stay around and talk for bit, this big dork has really managed to get you intrigued. “Thank you SO much for today… Your uh, your money’s on the table there.” 

“Kid, I feel like I’ve barely touched you. It’s on the house. Call me when it gets bad again, or whenever you want really. You can pay me then.”

“Thanks…” 

Interesting how the quirky illegal therapist is acting all gentlemany now.

You watch as he pulls on a hoodie and slings the backpack over his shoulder, the folded massage table effortlessly tucked under his arm. He says goodbye, and calls you kid, and your heart leaps in your chest like it has no right to.

**Author's Note:**

> Smell that? it's the stench of the idiots in love trope 😂  
> Nothing too explicit yet, but I'm planning 2-3 chaps for this! Tags will be updated as we go.
> 
> Hope you liked it, you can tell me your thoughts below :) 🙏


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